


One Mist to Save Them All

by vamprav



Series: EAD 2019 [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Harry Potter, Harry is Fran, Mist flames are a cheat, Other, Reborn is Harry's cousin via Lily, Time Travel, gender queer mists
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 08:11:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17804309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vamprav/pseuds/vamprav
Summary: Fran was just a hair too slow on the illusion and ze had never seen Belphagor's eyes. The Storm and the Mist rises and has always been the ultimate illusion.Fran comes to bunt over a toilet on the night when ze discovered that ze would be facing down a dragon for the first task of the Triwizard Tournament.





	One Mist to Save Them All

**Author's Note:**

> this is a segment of the prologue I'm posting for EAD because I just needed to share it.

Part 1:

Belphegor's crown was a beautiful thing, simple and elegantly worked from a silvery metal that Fran had never been able to identify, no matter how long ze stared at it. Fran had never seen him without it, until now.

Ze had always wanted to hold it in zir hands, feel the power behind it, the power in it, born of royal blood and royal Flame. Ze had dreamed of stealing the crown from the Prince if only for a little while, so that ze could place it on zir head and feel that strength for zirself.

Fran had come up with plans within plans on how how to do it, how to use zir flames to steal the crown and how not to when ze found out that Belphegor was exceptionally sensitive to flames that weren’t his own. That had put a crimp in zir plans but ze wasn’t trying to keep the crown, ze just wanted to hold it and Belphegor would only part with it permanently over his own cold, dead corpse.

Fran’s fists clenched around the crown in zir hands and it’s cold, dead. Cold like Bel is cold and dead like Bel is dead. There is no power left, no warmth, no flame.

Too slow, too  _ slow _ . Too  _ fucking _ goddamn  _ slow _ .

“Shishishishishi,” the undead leach laughed as it climbed back onto it’s thrown, “nice try, little mist, but you’ve never seen my little brother’s eyes.”

Fran looked at it with burning eyes and contemplated zir options, ze had known that would be the one flaw that would stand out but, well, ze had done zir best. And zir best hadn’t been good enough.

“Tell me, zombie prince,” Fran deadpanned as ze stood, still cradling Belphegor's crown in zir hands, “were you dead before the marshmallow vampire got to you or did you just wish you were?”

The creeping, wrong laughter stopped. Good, only Belphagor was allowed to laugh like that, like the sound was stroking up Fran’s spine.

“What did you just say, peasant?” the zombie prince’s back stiffened and it leaned forward in it’s chair.

“You heard what I said, zombie prince,” Fran tilted zir head and the frog hat came tumbling off, “The scars you bare are clue enough, he left you inches from death. Severed digestional tract, lowered lung capacity, growing back your liver must have been fun. I wonder if they go all the way down, did he take your heirs from you, too?”

The snarl that the zombie prince let out promised violence and blood and pain beyond imagining. Fran didn’t want to let go of Belphagor’s crown so ze carefully drew out a thin thread of flame and used it to crimp the edges in so that it would wrap around zir neck with ease. While any good Mist could make the impossible possible and what was false true it was far easier to take the probably and make it real.

Fran carefully slid zir makeshift necklace on and looked up at the two floating forms in front of zir. The butler looked outraged but the tilt of the zombies head had turned thoughtful.

“Shishishi, you have a way with words, little mist,” it purred and the throne floated closer, “and you wear a collar well. My brother may have been less of a fool than I thought, even if you hadn’t earned the right to see his eyes.”

Fran started at it with a blank expression while zir insides twisted and rebelled against the blatant interest in the zombie's words, “Your family was almost as twisted as my school was, you destroyed each other’s trust until nothing remained and the sight of his own blood became a trigger for a battle rage. If he was a woman the world would have burned by now.”

The zombie threw back it’s head and laughed, a roaring noise that made Fran’s teeth clench in discomfort, “Oh, little mist I’m going to enjoy breaking you.”

“Are you sure of that?” Fran asked and held out zir hand as the weight of a sword settled comfortably into zir palm.

It was a bastard sword, old and powerful with garnets glimmering along the hilt. It fit zir hand perfectly, just like it had for over a decade, no matter how much ze grew. The blade was weighty but not heavy enough to draw Fran’s hand down.

“Did you know that the Changewing can move around so silently that you can’t even hear it breath?” Fran asked and the zombie froze mid laugh.

“What?” it asked and the dragon hoering behind him roared in triumph.

The girly shriek that the zombie prince let out was completely and utterly priceless.

Fran smiled as ze took in zir box animal for the first time, ze had known what she was but ze had never actually released her from the box. She held the same vague shape of a Hungarian horntail but instead o scales she shimmered with iridescent indigo feathers. Her head was brauder in the snout too and didn’t have that awkwardly curved upper jaw. Flames flowed down her back in a wave and curled between her teeth.

The shriek the zombie had let out morphed back into that horrid, rolling giggle as the throne swiveled to take in the sight of Fran’s Box Animal. The butler was already reaching for his own Box and Fran whistled, high pitched enough that the Storm Bats shriek and dance through the air.

Cammy turns her big eyes on the butler, opens her jaws, extends her neck, and bites. The butler is suddenly in two pieces and the zombie prince screams in horror as blood falls like rain around them. If Fran was any younger, any more the lion that ze’d worn the skin of more than seven years ze would have retched but that person is years and countries away.

“You little peasant swine!” the zombie shrieked and the throne spun again, facing Fran once more, “--- has been serving my family for decades.”

There was a ball of red fire in its right hand, raised over its head like a spear. Fran didn’t even flinch as the zombie’s arm drew back and as the hand came forward, launching the Storm Flames off of the tips of its fingers ze lunged.

Ze cut through the flames with the blade in zir hands and if it had been anything less than goblen wrought metal it would have disintegrated but instead it absorbed the power, drank it in like a desert drank water. The zombie’s eyes go wide and ze almost manages a smile but zir face has been dead for years and Belphagor was  _ dead _ . There was nothing left to smile for.

Ze buries the blade in the zombies chest and bares zir teeth in victory. The zombie chokes and Fran is close enough to scent the traces of death on its breath, close enough for spit to dot zir face.

“Oh, so you’re not a corpse after all,” ze realizes, “near enough though, you must have been desperate to fall at the feet of a leech, with that tumor eating up your insides, it must have been agonizing. I will enjoy seeing that.”

“What?” the dead man gasped out and then paled as Fran’s eyes went pure black.

“Didn’t you know?” Fran asked, even though it’s clear that it didn’t, “Time is the ultimate illusion.”

“ **I thought you said that about death, Master?** ” a voice like the rattling of a cough in the back of an old man’s throat asks from behind the corpse on the throne.

“Death is an absolute,” Fran pronounced before reaching out with zir Mist and twists it violently around the corpse’s soul, sucks out his Storm, and tears it to streads.

Ze takes a deep breath as the corpse slumps over the blade and then relaxed into arms of the one being that he could always trust.

 

*****

 

Harry was calm, very, very calm as he slipped through the Fat Lady’s portrait, he really needs to find out her name. He was calm as he slipped off the cloke and snuck up the stairs. He was calm as he tucked the cloak back into his trunk. He was calm as he strode across the bedroom and into the bathroom.

And then he darted to the toilet and retched.

The first heave came up empty and the second, it had been hours since dinner and he’d had very little to begin with. The third brings up a wash of bile that burned in the back of his throat and over his tongue.

He vomitted again and again and again until he was shaking and sweating and his teeth tingled as tears streamed down his cheeks.

Dragons.

The first task was dragons. What the bloody hell were the adults thinking? Pitting dragons up against children? Nesting mothers at that. What would happen to the eggs if the Champions weren’t careful?

Harry was going to die. He was going to burn and his flesh would fall off his bones in the heat of it.

He wondered if he’d smell his own flesh cook and if it would smell like bacon. He retches again, somehow finding more bile to bring up even after the minutes he’s spent bent over the toilet.

He sits back on his heels, taking deep, steady breaths that filled his lungs and shook in his throat. He wondered if anyone besides Hermione would miss him, Ron was pissed and hated him, the rest of the Gryffindors hated him, the Ravenclaws were pissed about him not sharing how he got passed the age line, the Hufflepuffs had the most reason to hate him, Slytherin had never needed a reason.

Harry wobbled to his feet and stumbled over to one of the sinks and Fran slapped zir hand against the mirror as ze tried to breath past the nausea roiling in zir guts. Ze had done it, ze remembered this night, remembered vomiting up zir guts after finding out that the first task was dragons.

Ze was fourteen again, just on the cusp of puberty, not yet tipping into the downward fall of the hormone rush that was growing into a bossy. One year older than Tsunayoshi, one year younger than Belphagor, one year until the Varia declared war on Vongola, nine months until Xanxus thawed out.

If ze had anything to say about it ze would be shortening that time frame significantly. Ze refused to leave Xanxus in the ice for longer than necessary, refused to let Iemitsu’s ignorance doom them all to die, doom Belphagor to die.

Fran stared at into zir own avada green eyes and wrinkles zir nose at the black hair falling around zir ears. Ze had never liked zir black hair but ze still had Bel’s crown wrapped around zir neck like a caress so it’s a decent exchange, almost equivalent but ze is going to have to hide Bel’s crown and that makes zir pout.

“Alright, Harry, let’s get this over with,” Fran grit zir teeth at the name and all that it implied, at the emotion ze had to let out, “one day to get your barings, to  _ fix  _ your body and then you go get the Boss.”

Fran grinned at his reflection and the mirror whistles at him, “Royalty looks good on you, sugar.”

Ze laughed and smiled at it, “I’m not royalty, I’m just desperate.”


End file.
